


You Belong To Me, I Believe

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Ace Mikey, Alternate Universe - Desolation Row, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Preppy Pete, Punk Mikey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-28 20:11:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3868237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Pete sighed, thinking he’d never felt as tired or as happy as he did in that moment. The hole in his chest didn't feel as void anymore. It was no longer a hole, in fact. More like a pinprick.</p><p>It was filled with loud music, and a kiss from a pretty punk boy he barely knew."</p><p>Pete Wentz, ultimate goody-two-shoes goes to his first rock show. He meets Mikey, who makes him question everything he thought he knew about who he was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Desolation Row

**Author's Note:**

> Find the authors on tumblr at numblikenovocaine and pattytude.

Pete used to be okay. Really, he was. His grades were perfect, he did all his homework, went to church every Sunday, played soccer on the weekends and after school. He had been happy. His parents were proud of him, and he had a lot of friends who enjoyed spending time with him. But recently, things started to change. He couldn't exactly pinpoint when he’d started to _not_ feel okay, but he had, and it sucked.

It was like he could feel a cut somewhere on his body and see the blood dripping off him wherever he went, but couldn't find the wound. He wrote about it sometimes, clacking away at his keyboard in the private of his room on nights when sleep was nothing but a far-off fantasy land, or scribbling in a notebook when he was bored. Often, he described it as a hole in his chest, as if something was missing from his life. Nothing seemed quite right. He listened to the hollow sound his bones made when he inhaled. Sometimes when he looked in the mirror, he swore he could see through his eyes into the back of his own skull.

He kept a bright smile on his face though, he couldn't let the inner demons win. No, they were his to fight at night, when no one could see the hollowness in his eyes and faint trail of unwanted tears on his cheeks. They were his, and no one else’s.

-

Pete went to a Catholic school, and had been religious all his life. It was hard not to be when the entire city, including his parents were conservative catholics. It was comforting to him in a way, the idea that whatever you did, there was always a greater plan waiting for you. It was almost like a sweet dream to him, like a pat on the back, reassuring him that everything would be ok in the end.

-

It was lunchtime and the sky was pale blue. No sign of rain in the fluffy white clouds. Pete was sitting outside on the freshly cut grass with the only three people who still had the nerve to hang out with him. He hadn't slept the night before, instead he stayed up for hours, searching for any way to make the hole in his chest close over. He ached to tell someone, to get the crushing weight off of his chest. 

Joe and Patrick were tittering happily about a song they were trying to write for the school choir. Pete didn’t really get the appeal so much. He preferred poetry, but sometimes if he didn't pay attention, his words started to look more like lyrics. Joe and Patrick wanted to start a band when they got out of school, but debated on the genre. Patrick liked soul while Joe aggressively campaigned for punk. They often asked Pete to settle their debates, but he didn’t care much either way. He didn't know enough to have an opinion. All he knew was that their moms would kill them if they could hear them.

He turned to Andy, who was grimacing over his lunch.Two months ago, he’d decided to go vegan. His mom was still trying to figure out what exactly was vegan and what wasn't. She also didn't seem to get that just because a food was vegan, didn't mean it would taste good.

"Hey, um, can I get some advice man? You're full of ancient wisdom or whatever, right?" Pete asked. 

Andy tilted his head for a minute. He had this metal thing going on: slightly wavy long hair, a burning desire for facial piercings, and a stubble that his mom would have paid him to shave. Pete's mother didn't quite approve of Andy, but Pete had been allowed to keep hanging out with hm because his parent were major investors in the church community.

"Sure. Is something wrong?" He asked after a few seconds.

Pete shook his head, "Nah. I just haven't slept that well in a few nights. Been kind of stressed out, y’know? Soccer doesn't even help anymore. I don't know what to do.”

Andy slipped his slimy-looking sandwich into his backpack and turned his full attention to Pete. He looked kind of funny with his nerdy glasses, not-a-beard-but-close-enough, and his long hair. His eyebrows were furrowed close together while he thought.

"If soccer doesn't help, then I'm not sure what else would." He said thoughtfully, "What about a show?”

Pete's eyes widened in shock. "You mean like, music?" he asked. He was skeptical, as he and Andy had very different tastes in music.

Andy nodded, "When I get home from one, I pass out and sleep for like, ten hours."

Pete thought about that idea for a second. He really needed to get his troubles out of his head for at least a night. Sure, he didn't like Andy's metal music, or the scene in general, but he had seen pictures of so-called mosh pits and they looked like something that wipe you out.

If he snuck out, maybe his parents wouldn't notice him, and no one but him and Andy would ever have to know about it.

Eventually, Pete nodded.

"I'm going to this club called Desolation Row tonight, You could come if you want?" Andy asked. 

Pete nodded his head more vigorously, "Yeah. Ok. Pick me up?”

A wild smirk appeared on Andy's usually straight face. "Pete fucking Wentz is finally going to let himself go. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Okay, okay, dude, keep it down. And don't curse.”

-

His parents were going out to some charity benefit that night. They told Pete to stay home, but Patrick could come over if he wanted, and there was money for pizza on the kitchen counter. Guilt boiled in his stomach as they smiled affectionately and kissed his cheeks on their way out. Pete had never snuck out before, so he wasn't sure how deep his alibi should go. Just to be safe, he called Patrick.

"Hey man, I was wondering if you could cover for me tonight?" he asked.

"Yeah, why?" Patrick asked. Pete could hear a C.D playing softly in the background. Green Day, or maybe the Ramones. Pete wasn't a huge music fan, but Patrick had played those two bands for him before. 

"I'm going to a show with Andy and my parents don't know. Just, if anyone asks, we talked on the phone all night, ok?" Pete said.

He heard Patrick sigh, "You really shouldn't lie. But, ok. Sure. Fine."

"You're the best, 'Trick," Pete said, grinning.

- 

At nine o'clock, Andy texted Pete that he was on his way. Pete looked himself over in the mirror one last time. He was wearing his favourite shirt - a mint green polo - with skinny jeans and sneakers. He added a black hoodie, too. The shirt rode up a little. As an afterthought, he raided his mom's makeup bag for an eyeliner pen. He'd seen a guy in a magazine do it once, and thought it looked pretty great. He drew thin lines across his upper and lower eyelids, smudging them out. He studied his reflection. He liked it. He looked less vulnerable, more guarded and hardcore. Almost seductive.

He thought about his father's face if he ever caught him wearing the stuff. That would be a show more terrifying than the one he was about to go to.

He heard a car horn outside, and ran out. Andy's ancient black Honda was waiting for him in the driveway. He made a mental note to pray for an extra five minutes in case any of his neighbours saw them.

"Hey," Pete grinned, almost shaking with nerves. He'd never done anything like this before. He felt bad about it, but the guilt almost excited him. He was a well known goody-two-shoes, thanks to his strict mother, but for the first time, he didn't feel like one.  

Andy grinned back, evidently just as excited as Pete. He was wearing a tight fitting t-shirt with a gruesome looking band logo on it, with black shorts. Pete suddenly wondered if maybe the polo was a bad idea.

"You ready?" Andy asked. Pete didn't think he’d ever actually be ready. Still, he nodded.

Andy fiddled with the radio the whole drive, eventually settling on a metal station. Pete hoped the band they were going to see didn't sound like that. The cursing alone made him flinch slightly.

Desolation Row was on a street corner in a bad part of town. People who walked past it looked dodgy, all of them clad in leather jackets and chains, something Pete had seen only on TV before. The sign outside advertised "My Chemical Romance”, a new up-and-coming local band. There was a short line of tough looking teenagers waiting outside the doors. Pete and Andy went to the back, and Pete knew for sure the polo had been a bad idea.

As stars started to appear in the night sky, more people joined the line, until it stretched down the block and Pete couldn't see the end anymore. He was glad they'd gotten there early because some older guys had started to get violent. He started to freak out slightly at the thought of how much trouble he’d be in if his parents ever found out as they were finally let in.

Andy pulled Pete through the mob of people that streamed into the stage area with them, getting the two of them a spot at the front. Pete saw a bar to the side and wondered if it was even legal for them to be in there. He bit his lip, and turned to Andy. 

"I don't know if this is such a good idea. Maybe I should, I dunno. Wait outside?" Pete said.

Andy raised an eyebrow, ”I guess you can if you want, but good luck getting through the crowd," He laughed. Pete figured Andy was right. He almost always was.

The lights dimmed, and the band walked out on stage. The butterflies in Pete's stomach fluttered with anticipation.

The stage lights flashed on. There were five of them, all covered in ripped jeans and leather, endless chains and tattoos. The vocalist grabbed the mic and turned to the crowd, making Pete gasp in shock. He looked like he’d been in a fist fight moments before the show. Two guys situated themselves behind him, both having seriously beaten up guitars with a lot of stickers and marker scribbles on them. A big blonde dude with a lip ring sat behind the drum kit and drank a whole can of cheap beer in one gulp. Pete's breath got stuck in his throat. Then, finally, the last guy walked onto the stage. He was the tallest of them all, and Pete thought he was the best looking. He slung a bass over his shoulder.

They went directly into their first song. The crowd started moving to the heavy beat, creating an energy that sucked Pete into one of the scariest and most wonderful moments of his life.

Pete quickly got swept up in the music, and the crowd, and the energy of it all. Soon, he was jumping, banging his head, and pumping his fist with the crowd. The consequences of the night flew from his mind as he let the fast, aggressive music flow through his veins. 

His hoodie had disappeared part way through the second song. It was just too hot to keep it on. Rationally, he knew he'd probably never see the sweater again. For now, he was just glad to be rid of it. Sweat rolled down his face, and though the show had just begun, he was starting to get the same feeling he got after a soccer game. 

The band started a slower song, giving Pete the opportunity to observe the bassist. He had spread his legs, widening his stance and perching a foot on one of the speakers at the front of the stage. Pete's eyes got stuck on his legs. They seemed to go on forever. Pete wondered how he made his hair flip like that.The bassist turned around, moving his leather-covered body with the music. Then he faced the crowd again, and Pete decided that he was sort of fucked.

The bassist had apparently noticed his admirer. He looked down and locked eyes with Pete, which wasn't all that hard because, while staring at the bassist, he’d gotten so close to the stage he could probably climb up if he wanted. Then, he winked. Pete's throat went dry, his face turning bright red. He shouldn't be nervous. He wasn’t gay. It was wrong, that was what they always said at church and school, though he was never quite sure if it was true. He backed up slightly, stepping on someone's toe. They responded by shoving him roughly. He bumped into someone else, who shoved the person beside them. Soon, a full on mosh pit had started, with Pete right in the centre. The band started playing a faster song.

Pete was terrified. He tried to fight through the crowd, but he kept getting shoved back in. Andy was nowhere to be seen. He took an elbow to the head and toppled to the ground. He started to panic as he tried to get back up, but his hands kept getting stepped on and kicked out from under him. He wanted to scream, but couldn't find his voice. Then he heard someone else’s.

"I fucking love what you guys have going on up here!" The singer shouted. The crowd cheered.

"But if you see someone down, you pick them the fuck up, ok? Cause if someone gets killed they won't fucking invite us back!” The crowd cheered again and suddenly, a hand gripped Pete's arm and pulled him up roughly. 

Pete took a deep, full breath, and shouted thank you. To the singer, and to whoever had pulled him up. Pete looked up at the bassist and grinned. The bassist smirked back at him, which prompted Pete to blush again. 

Pete managed to make his way to the back of the crowd where things were calmer. He hung back for the rest of the show, dancing and jumping around. He thought he probably looked unbelievably stupid, but he didn't care. It felt good, and Pete hadn't felt really good in a long time. 

After the band screamed their final goodbyes and walked off stage, Pete wondered if he should start looking for Andy. He was his ride, after all. He stood on his tip-toes, looking for his friend. 

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He spun around, and was very suddenly face to face with the bassist from the band. 

"Hey," he said.  "H-hi," Pete stuttered out. He felt slightly intimidated by the tall, punk-looking guy.

"Got kind of intense in there. You alright?" he asked.

Pete nodded, "Yeah. Thanks.”

"Is this your first show? I'm Mikey, by the way." the bassist said, smirking.

Pete nodded, “Pete," he said nervously, “Was it that obvious?”

Mikey looked slightly amused, making Pete's knees weak for some unknown reason. "Kind of." 

Mikey looked him up and down. Pete self-consciously tugged his shirt down, trying to cover the thin strip of exposed skin that Mikey's eyes seemed to get stuck on. Pete thought he might have to go to confessional on Sunday after mass.

"A tattoo would look fucking cool there," Mikey said, dragging his finger over the hot skin of his abdomen, but there was nothing inherently sexual about the action. It was more like he genuinely thought a tattoo would look _fucking cool_ there and he wanted to let Pete know by touching him. Pete shuddered.

"I wouldn't know what to get,"  _and my mom would kill me_ , he added in his head.

Mikey nodded, "How old are you? Want a drink?”

"I'm seventeen,” Pete said. It was sort of true. His birthday was only a few days away. Mikey did weird things to him. Things his mother would never approve of, "Drink sound great.”

Mikey ordered beers for them both as Pete secretly cringed. He had never tasted beer in his life and he didn't want to any time soon, but he desperately wanted to look cool and he didn't really know why.

Pete and Mikey sat at the edge of the bar, away from the majority of the noise.

“So you’re seventeen? Are you graduating this year or next year?” Mikey asked, swallowing a third of his beer in one gulp.

“Next year,” Pete said, “What about you? Are you still in school?”

Mikey grimaced, “Yeah. I’m a senior. I don't think I’ve ever seen you around,” he said, furrowing his brow.

Pete blushed, “I um, I go to the catholic school. That’s probably why.”

Mikey nodded, “I think Frank - he’s the short one - went there.”

Pete couldn't imagine anyone from his school being in a punk band, covered in tattoos and piercings. Then he remembered Andy, and thought maybe.

“Do they still brainwash the homophobia into you guys?” Mikey asked, a bite in his voice. He downed another third of the beer.

Pete sipped at his, liking the warm, fuzzy feeling he was starting to get, but feeling guilty nonetheless. He nodded, “Yeah, but I don't really believe it. Jesus was all about love, right? How could any kind of love be all that bad?”

That earned a smile form Mikey, “Good. I’m glad you’re not another droid,” he said.

 

Out of the blue, someone shouted “THE COPS ARE HERE” which made everyone bolt for the back door, including Mikey's band. Mikey himself looked slightly annoyed, as though this were something that happened every other weekend, and he was completely used to it by now.

He sighed, got up from his bar stool, and pulled Pete with him casually. He pushed through the mass of hysterical people, and out a back door Pete hadn't seen before. He pulled a sharpie out of his back pocket, and scribbled his phone number on Pete’s palm. Then, he leaned forward and planted a quick, closed mouth kiss on Pete’s cheek, so close to his mouth that he could taste Mikey’s beer.

 

“I’ll see you around, short stack. Call me,” he said, smirking. Finally, Mikey patted his back and disappeared into the night with his band mates. Pete stayed there, staring at the place Mikey had stood a second ago, wishing the cops hadn't come and ruined everything. What exactly was that _everything_? He decided to deal with that later.

"C'mon dude!" Andy, who’d seemingly appeared out of thin air, grabbed his wrist and rushed them to his car. Soon, they were rolling down the street to their nice, quiet neighbourhood with no punk clubs or police. Pete sighed, thinking he’d never felt as tired or as happy as he did in that moment. The hole in his chest didn't feel as void anymore. It was no longer a hole, in fact. More like a pinprick.

It was filled with loud music, and a kiss from a pretty punk boy he barely knew.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which notes are thrown at windows, and Pete Wentz suffers greatly.

There were certain things that Pete didn't enjoy doing. Some of them were unavoidable, and he had to do them every day, like washing the dishes, cleaning his room, or washing his hair... but some he hadn't experienced until he tried to break into his own room at 1 am, the scent of alcohol, cigarettes, and his own sinful escapades clinging to his clothes and his memory.

Needless to say, Pete didn't like being grounded, because being grounded in Pete's house wasn't like being grounded in someone else's.The Wentz family had always been famous for their gruesome, and often unjust punishments. For example, one time Pete's father made his sister kneel on corn when he found out about her boyfriend and the things they did in abandoned, empty hallways at school. Two days later, the whole neighborhood tittered and gossiped about it, making Pete's mother lock herself up in her room, refusing to eat for days out of embarrassment. After that, Pete had taken a mental oath to never break any of the rules his parents had carefully set, or do any kind of rebellious things. And he'd never wanted to... not until he discovered the beauty of illegal punk clubs (and cute punk boys).

"Ugh," he sighed, looking around his bare room. In fit of rage, his mother had ripped off all of his superhero posters, claiming that, "Those comic books are full of sex, and sin! I should've never let you get them!" Pete didn't agree, but he had been in no position to argue with his furious and teary-eyed mother.

His mother was a proud person. When they were in public as a family, she would chat loudly with other moms, brag about Pete's grades and talents, say how she couldn't imagine having a better son. But as soon as they got home, she'd make him do all kinds of pointless chores while she sat in the living room reading her well-worn copy of the Bible. Pete thought her religion stopped her from doing certain things that every mother should, like caring out her son's mental health and social life, but he never said anything out of fear of being punished.

She'd seemed to tower over him despite being about an inch shorter, her rage filling up the room, "What has gotten into your head, Peter?" she yelled, "Sneaking out in the middle of the night? Reeking of booze and those damn cigarettes?!" She herded him to his bedroom and took away all of his books and technology, leaving him with nothing but an empty room and a scribbled phone number that he couldn't call anyway. He'd been smart enough not to let her see his hand.

He thought it couldn't get worse... and then his father came in with a list of all the chores he'd have to do in the following week.

The next day, Pete was hardly allowed any time to himself. He was slammed with chores from the moment he got out of bed. He was already exhausted from being out late, but the tedious chores only made it worse. He begged for a break, and after several hours of scrubbing the floors, cleaning the kitchen, sweeping up the driveway, washing the windows and polishing his mother's china, Peter Wentz senior finally let Peter Wentz junior go to sleep.

Pete wished he knew what time it was. There had never been a clock in his room, and his phone was still with his mother. By the setting sun and the humid air, he figured it must be around 8 pm. He felt like the biggest loser ever - who the fuck goes to sleep before 11? Well, Pete, obviously, but he already knew beyond a shadow of doubt that he was a loser.

Then, out of no where, he heard a soft tap on his window. He pushed the covers off of his tired body and jumped to his feet. When he pushed the window up, after several seconds of struggle to do it as quiet as possible, the only thing he found on his window sill was a vibrant blue tick his mother used to stop the laundry from flying away with the strong Chicago wind while it was drying off outside. He picked it up and noticed a piece of paper between the clips.

He took it out and almost giggled like a giddy schoolgirl with a wild crush. Right there on the small piece of paper that looked like it was ripped out of a random math textbook, in a messy cursive font with a lot of messily doodled stick figures and cute hearts, was written  **Heard you got in trouble. Sorry. Hope I'll see you again soon tho.**  And right under,  _p.s. Hi Pete. Mikey Way told me to give this to you. I had to throw it at your window dude, didn’t want anyone to see. Figured you wouldn't either. Btw, cute omg. - Andy_  

Pete thought he had never been happier, despite being grounded and the whole basement that's waiting for him to clean it up. He cursed the fact he couldn't meet up with (or at least text) Mikey right away, and he cursed the fact he wanted to at all.

“You're an asshole, Andy!" Pete said when he met up with his friends in school the next day. Patrick and Joe were arguing about pop punk a few meters away, completely oblivious to Pete's problems. Patrick's round face was heated up and a little red from frustration while he passionately defended his point, “Pop Punk shouldn't be called pop punk at all. It's not pop and it's definitely not punk,” While Joe, on the other hand, was casually leaning on one of the lockers with a half eaten apple in hand and a, “Whatever dude. It's still shitty, and we’re not playing it.” on his lips.

Pete said it in a shout-whisper kind of way though, they were in catholic school after all, and the last thing Pete needed was more trouble. Still, he secretly hoped he'd get an F or be expelled or something bad, just to spite his parents and their conservative view on life.

"And you, my friend, have a crush on My Chemical Romance's bassist." Andy replied, smirking smugly behind his tofu sandwich. Pete noticed that his hair looked particularly nice that day. The way the sun hit his usually brown strands gave it a special ginger hue, almost like a shade of- _Wait, why THE FUCK am I thinking about Andy's hair?!_ intense feelings of dread and panic started to turn his stomach into one big knot.

That was the moment Pete realized that maybe he liked boys just as much as he liked girls. It was a weird thought and it freaked him out, and something that Pete’s parents had been trying to stamp out of him since he was a child was that when he got freaked out, he got violent.

He grabbed Andy by the collar of his button up shirt and shoved him roughly against the lockers. Andy was so shocked by Pete’s lash out that he was unable to defend himself and hit the metal surface with a loud thud. A couple of students crossed themselves in horror and ran away in fear, which would have been funny if Pete hadn't been so focused on beating the living shit out of his best friend.

"Fucking say that again,” Pete hissed between heavy breathing and half choking, "I fucking dare you,” he shouted. Before Pete could do anything he might regret in his fit of rage, he was grabbed by two pairs of arms and dragged away. By the calming words being whispered in his ear from one side, and melodic humming on the other, he figured it was Patrick and Joe. Although he was struggling to get out of their grip with numerous curses and insults, he was thankful they stopped him. The last thing he wanted was to hurt one of his closest friends, especially when they didn't even deserve it.

When Pete got home later that day, he went straight to the basement, where his mother already put the cleaning products. Staring at the bottles, he felt dirty, even dirtier than the basement no one had the guts to clean up for at least 5 years. He wished there was a way to clean his brain out. He sighed. He’d have to settle for cleaning the basement. He took off the white button up shirt all of the boys had to wear in school and decided to stay just in his undershirt, which was already slightly sweaty and wet on his knotted muscles from the walk home.

Something in his head screamed, _I can't like boys_ , so loud he thought he was going to cry out in despair. He gritted his teeth to keep the noise inside his throat where it couldn't incriminate him. He didn’t want to deal with that yet. There was a nagging voice telling him what the outcome would be, and he wanted to go a little longer without knowing. So, instead of dealing with that problem, he shoved it into the darkest, most depressing corner of his brain where he wouldn't remember to remember it again until he sat down at his computer to write.The truth was that some of his best lyrics come from that desolate little corner, along with some of his wildest thoughts and the urge to rebel against his parents, authority and everything he didn't support but had pretended to his whole life. As a result, that corner had become repressed, fighting to make it’s way to the surface of Pete’s mind. And recently, he had begun to wonder if maybe he should let it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Pete goes to church, Andy is smug, and Mikey looks really great in a button-up.

Even though Pete was exhausted when he went to bed that night, he couldn't sleep. There were so many thoughts and feelings running through his head - some that he had been actively repressing for years, and some that were new.

The most worrisome by far was the liking boys thing. He decided to look at the facts. He understood facts, and could make sense of them. So, he got out of bed and sat down at his desk. He pulled out a piece of paper, and drew a t-chart. On one side, he wrote "Boys" and on the other, "Girls". Down the side, he wrote, "Attractive" "Talk to" and "Sex".

There had never been any doubt that he thought girls looked great. He put a check by attractive in their column. He thought about Mikey, and decided that guys could look pretty good too, so he put a check in the "Boys" column as well. Next, he thought about all the awkward times he'd tried - and failed - to even hold a conversation with a girl. They were strange. They never said what they meant, and that frustrated him. Still, he had a few close female friends. Once you got them to trust you, they could be pretty great. He drew a question mark next to "Talk to" in the girls' column. He quickly put a check in the boys' - guys were easy. Pete had always had an easy time making friends with them. The last category was what really stumped him. Sex. He knew he wanted to have sex with girls, but he didn't know about guys. Sure, some of them had really great bodies, but the thought of another dick anywhere near him made him shudder. He wasn't even overly fond of his own. So, he put a question mark next to sex.

It was a tie. That couldn't be right, Pete thought. It was one or the other. It couldn't be both. And how could he be attracted to guys if he didn't want to have sex with them? Still, he thought he'd rather be with Mikey than any of the girls he knew. That troubled him. It troubled him even more that Mikey had seemed to want to be with him too. He flipped to the back of his notebook, where he'd carefully written out Mikey's phone number. He wished he could text him. The notion of being with Mikey scared him for more reasons than one. There was the fact that no one he knew would ever speak to him again (except for Andy, who seemed to be more than supportive of his crush), The fact that he would go directly to hell, and what if Mikey wanted to do stuff? He didn't think he could bring himself to even touch a dick that wasn't his own. Mikey would probably leave when he found out that Pete was only gay above the waist.

Sighing, Pete tore out the sheet of paper he'd made the chart on. He ripped it up and threw it in the trash, knowing that if his mother ever saw it, she'd have his head. Then, he remembered the note Mikey had written him. He'd jammed it in the bottom of his pencil jar. He pulled it out, and re-read it. He wondered if he should write back. He wondered if Andy would even deliver it, after how he'd acted. Pete picked up his pencil again, and decided that it was worth a try.

_Mikey,_   
_Hi, yeah, I'm in a lot of trouble. Mom took my phone, or I would have texted u. I wanna see u, though. U could come to my church on Sunday, and we could talk there? I'm kind of not allowed anywhere except school, church, and home right now._   
_-Pete._

He finished the note by drawing cartoon bats, and little hearts. He read over it a dozen times before he was satisfied that he hadn't made any mistakes. Then he tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket, and crawled back into bed.

The next day at school, Pete apologized profusely to Andy the second he saw him.

Pete and Andy had been friends for as long as Pete could remember, and over the years, Andy had come to expect this sort of thing from Pete. Andy explained that he knew Pete's boundaries, and he had known he was pushing them.

"I just think you needed to be pushed. You're so afraid to explore yourself, I was afraid you'd implode if I didn't shove a few ideas I knew you might not like into your head." Andy told him kindly when he was sure no one would hear them. Pete nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. There was something really heavy in his stomach, in his chest, and on his back. He felt like he might throw up, but appreciated that andy was trying to help him.

"So, am I forgiven?" Pete asked.

Andy grinned, "Don't worry about it, man."

Pete smiled back widely, fishing the note from his back pocket, "Could you give this to Mikey for me?" he asked tentatively.

Andy snatched the note, his eyes lighting up, "So I was right?" he said excitedly.

Pete nodded, "Don't go telling people, though. I'm in enough trouble already."

Andy nodded solemnly, "My lips are sealed."

Then, Pete excused himself and ran up to the bathroom ignoring the nasty looks other pretentious boys were giving him. He pushed the door open and locked himself in one of the stalls, dry heaving over the toilet. Although it was nice to "tell" someone about his mixed feelings, someone else knowing made it real, and meant that he couldn’t just push it down and ignore it.

-

The rest of the week was filled mostly with chores, and remained largely uneventful. Pete did get a note back from Mikey, saying that he would be at the church, and that he would try his hardest not to burst into flames just for him. That made Pete giggle.

Then, on Sunday morning, his mother ripped the covers off of him and threw the curtains open. She declared that he would go to mass and confess all of his "sins". So, he put on his finest suit, and his cleanest shoes, spent around 30 minutes doing his hair, and finally dragged himself downstairs. He was allowed to take a waffle and a Capri Sun and just eat it in the car because they were already almost late. Pete wished he could protest, but decided it would be in his best interest to keep quiet until after he'd seen Mikey. He could kick up a stink when he got home.

So, he munched on his waffle in the back seat of the car and thought about how great Mikey Way looked to keep himself from jumping out of the car. Especially with a battered, black bass slung across his chest. Shiny, hazel eyes and incredible eyebrows. Slicked back hair - shorter on the sides, long on the top. A bit like a grown-out mohawk. Endless, long legs. Tight, ripped skinny jeans. Pale, smooth skin peeking out of the intentionally made holes on his shirt. The thought of seeing him made Pete's stomach quiver with anticipation.

Pete had a lot of time to think about who he liked and who he didn't, coming up with the conclusion that he indeed liked Mikey Way. In fact, he knew for sure he liked him a whole lot. He just had to make peace with himself about liking both girls and boys. He didn't really know what to call it yet, so he just decided to refer to Mikey as his "man crush". He also decided to not tell the priest that in confession later that day.

He snorted out loud at his own bullshit and how stupid he sounded so hard he almost choked, which made his juice squirt out of his nose all over the head of his father's front seat. Pete Wentz senior glanced back at his son in confusion, furrowing his eyebrows as he gave Pete's mother the _Where did we go wrong?_ look. She just shook her head in disbelief. Pete laughed.

The sun was high up in the sky, shining above the city with all it's might. The light was so strong Pete had to squint in order to see where the fuck he was going and not be blinded. Usually, he'd be happy to see such a beautiful day, but now he just got mad. Mostly at himself. He used to love going to church, it filled him up with that kind of inner peace you can get only after being alone with your thoughts for some time, but now he just kept wishing he was home, or with Mikey, or anywhere but _there_.

Pete was well aware of the unimaginable hate the church had towards people like him, and it bothered him so much that he was practically fuming with anger. It had always bothered him, from the time he was a small 8 year-old kid watching his mother cross herself and drag him away when they passed two boys holding hands on the street. He could still remember the pain in his chest, and the confusion he'd felt. He'd seen the disappointment in the boys' eyes, and he'd had a bruise for a week because of his mother's too-strong grip on his bicep. It was awful, and now the memory stung even worse with Pete's recent realization regarding his orientation.

Even when he was so young that the only thing he cared about were Ninja turtles, he still hadn't seen anything wrong with two boys holding hands, he'd even wanted to do it sometimes with Patrick and Joe, but kept his little mouth shut because he didn't want to make his mother upset.

-

Mikey Way was really, really frustrated. He stood in front of his closet, surrounded by scattered shirts and jeans, button ups and sweats, wondering what the fuck was he supposed to wear to church. The last time he had been in one was when he was 15 years old, which was only about three years ago, but felt like a lifetime. Even then, he'd had two suits he could choose from. Now, he didn't have a clue where those suits were. Probably in his parents' house, as he hadn't seen them since he moved in with Gee. He was pretty sure they wouldn't fit anymore, anyway.

Eventually, he decided to just steal Gerard's tight, black, button up shirt. He wore it with the only pair of jeans he owned with no holes in the knees. He obviously couldn't smudge on his eyeliner like usual, so he just dabbed on a little concealer, and slicked back his hair.

He thought he looked pretty weird, and not at all like himself, but decided to not worry about that. He was sure none of his friend would see him in church, considering they were all like him - stubborn atheists.

Gerard had been confused to say the least when he found out where Mikey was going. Mikey had told him to fuck off and mind his own business, but later when they were a little tipsy, Mikey had confessed that he was going, _"Because of love!"_ Something about Pete had captured his attention, and Mikey couldn't just ignore it. Even if seeing him meant getting up at ass o' clock on Sunday morning and going to church, he would gladly do it.

_"But Mikes, aren't you...?" Gerard said while looking at his brother in confusion._

_Mikey nodded, smirking behind his cup of stale beer, "Just because I don't wanna fuck him doesn't mean I can't think he's cool. And cute."_

_It was Gerard's turn to nod, which he did, but had the urge to press the subject a little bit more, "Still, you've only met him once, and you only talked for like, 10 minutes."_

_Mikey laughed, snorting into his cup. Gerard furrowed his eyebrows and wrinkled his nose in disgust._

_"You decided you want to impregnate Lindsey Ballato the first time you laid eyes on her tits!" Mikey laughed even harder. Gerard knew he had a point, so he agreed and raised his fist. Mikey bumped it and announced that he had go to the bathroom, because he was going to throw up._

"The things I do for boys I don't even wanna fuck..." Mikey sighed to himself and checked his hair one last time. He thought about the strangeness of the whole situation. From the moment he knew what it meant, he'd considered himself asexual. His dick didn't get hard for boys or girls, and it was as simple as that. But he also thought he was a little gay, because he wanted to kiss boys, and hold their hands and stuff. His relationships didn't usually work out. Boys mainly just wanted to fuck, and Mikey didn't, so they'd just break up with him after he said no a couple of times. It hurt, but there was nothing he could do about it.

He hoped Pete would be different.

-

The service was only as long as it usually was, but to Pete, it felt like an eternity. About halfway through, he'd spotted Mikey sitting at the very back. He was scowling, and his arms were crossed, but he had showed up. When he saw Pete, he had actually cracked a small smile. Then Pete's dad had angrily whispered at him to _turn around now!_

Pete thought Mikey looked strange, but good in church clothes. He wasn't sure if you could even call what he was wearing that, but Pete suspected that the tight button up and unripped jeans were as close as Mikey ever got.

The second mass was over, Pete's mom shoved him towards the booth at the side of the church. He feigned needing to use the bathroom first, and practically ran out to the hallway.

He was pleased to see that Mikey was waiting for him.

"Hey," he grinned, "You came!"

"Yeah. You done in there? Can we talk now?" He asked. He was casually leaning against the wall, his arms crossed but his face friendly.

Pete bit his lip, "My mom wants me to go confess my sins or whatever. It'll be like, five minutes. She usually sticks around for a while to talk to the other moms, so we'll have some time then," He said.

Mikey nodded, "Ok. I'll wait here, then."

Pete smiled up at Mikey, "Thanks. I know you don't want to be here. Means a lot," he said.

Mikey smiled too, "Hey, I'm not gonna blow off a cute guy just 'cause he's a little religious," he said.

Blushing, Pete made his way back out to the main hall, and stepped into the confession booth.

He heard the elderly priest say, "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost."

Pete crossed himself, and recited, "Forgive me father for I have sinned, I have never confessed before. These are my sins."

He took a deep breath, "A few day's ago, I snuck out and went to a concert with my friend. There was drinking, and smoking, and loud rock music. So I guess that means, what? I disrespected my parents?"

He heard a sound of assent from the priest.

"And...I hit my friend," He still felt guilty about it, and confessing it to the priest made him feel a little better.

"And are you sorry for these sins?" The old man wheezed.

"Yes," Pete lied.

"Good. I think a fitting act of penance would be for you to take extra chores at home, and apologize to your friend. Do you agree?"

"Yes," Pete said. Like he had a choice.

"Good. Your sins are forgiven. You may go in peace," The priest said.

"Thank you, Father," Pete crossed himself again, and left.

When he stepped out of the booth, he was relieved to see that his parents were talking and laughing with Patrick's parents. He knew they would be there for a while, so he snuck back out into the hallway.

Mikey was still right where he'd been when Pete left.

"That was quick," He commented.

Pete shrugged.

"Are you ok?" Mikey asked, "I know you got in a lot of trouble."

"Yeah," Pete said, "I'm ok. Everything's just been so confusing, y'know?"

Mikey grimaced, "Yeah. Sorry. For kissing you. I should've asked first."

Pete nodded, "A little warning would have been nice. But," he paused, chewing on his lip, "I'm glad you did it."

Mikey smiled, "Yeah?" Pete nodded again, "I mean, sooner or later something would have made me realize that hey, guys are pretty great. It's probably a good thing it happened, otherwise I might have been married with kids before I knew."

"Yeah," Mikey agreed, "So are you gay? Or do you know yet?"

Pete shrugged. He sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall, "I don't know. I mean, I like girls, and I think I like guys. I know I like you," He blushed, "But I'm not sure I'd want to be with a guy...like _that_ , y'know?"

Mikey burst out into relieved laughter.

"What? It's not funny ok? I'm having an identity crisis and you're laughing, asshole!" Pete scowled.

Mikey sat down next to Pete, and put an arm around him, "I'm laughing because this might be the most perfect thing ever," he said.

Pete raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"I'm ace, you dork," Mikey said, smiling affectionately.

"What does that mean?" Pete asked.

"It means I have no interest whatsoever in putting my dick in anything," Mikey said.

"Oh. I guess that does work out pretty well," Pete said. He started to giggle, and Mikey joined in.

"So you're grounded pretty hardcore, huh?" Mikey said after a while.

Pete nodded, "I'm pretty much on house arrest. I'm not even allowed in the yard for too long."

"That sucks, dude," Mikey said. Then, he got a mischievous glint in his eye that both terrified and excited Pete.

"What if you snuck out again?" he asked, "We could hang out."

Pete chewed on his lip. He knew it would be better for him in the short term to follow the rules, and say no thank you and goodbye to Mikey. However, his whole life up to that point had been based on things he didn't believe in. He knew he'd have to stand up for himself eventually, and he couldn't think of any better reason than Mikey. He slowly nodded.

"Okay. How?" Pete had only ever snuck out once before, and he didn't think that that counted because his parents hadn't been home.

"Well, first you need to get your phone back," Mikey said, "Since I'm assuming this is your first time, it won't be hard. It's probably in your mom's bedside table, or dresser or something."

Pete nodded. He got home from school before his parents got home from work, so he'd have plenty of time to sneak around.

"Text me when you have it, and I'll guide you from there," Mikey said.

"I'll have it by tomorrow night," Pete said confidently.

"Ok," Mikey said. He stood up, and pulled Pete up with him.

"I should probably go," Pete said. He peeked back into the main hall, where his parents appeared to be asking if anyone had seen him.

He smiled up at Mikey, who shoved his hands in his pockets and said, "Ok, bye. Text me when you can, alright?" Pete nodded,

"I will. Bye," he said. He ran back out to meet his parents, feeling as though a massive weight had been lifted off his chest. And it had absolutely nothing to do with his confession.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a cowrite with Eve (givemenovocaine on Wattpad, where the story is also posted, and pattytude on tumblr) We hope you enjoy :)


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